


The Weekends

by medelrey



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, F/M, they're in america ya'll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 22:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medelrey/pseuds/medelrey
Summary: It’s been so long since she’s had to call him, Sansa begs whatever deity she can think of that his number is still the same. She shifts her weight from one leg to another as she stands in the yard, the phone ringing endlessly to the point she thinks he might not pick up.But then the line clicks and there’s a brief pause before she hears anything. “Hello?”“Hey, it’s Sansa.” Her voice cracks and a fresh set of tears overtake her. “Sorry,” she mumbles, clearing her throat.“Sansa, what’s wrong?”She suddenly feels guilty for calling; it’s obvious that he had been asleep and she’s disturbing someone she hardly knows anymore. “Um,” she stammers, “I’m at the Pike house on campus. Can you come pick me up, please? I don’t have anyone else to call.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> first fic in about four months. be gentle in comments. i started this back in november but never finished it until now.

“Sansa, choose the school based on academics, not the social scene,” her mother encouraged, “We wish you’d go to Columbia. Robb still lives in the city so you’d not be far from him.”

“I lived with Robb for fifteen years; I don’t want to follow him to school or have a keeper. Is it so bad I want to be on my own?”

“No,” Catelyn replies, flipping through all the college brochures spread out on the counter. “But we just don’t want you so far from home.”

Sansa sighs. “Well, I think I’ve decided on UF, anyway. Besides, Jon’s not so far from there. If I need anything, I’m sure I can call him.”

Catelyn frowns. “If that’s where you’re really set on…”

xxx

Sansa decides she likes the warmth and the sun, though she misses home more than she’ll admit. She likes her new roommate, Margaery, with whom she has a lot in common and the same shoe size (so they’re always sharing). Margaery likes the frat boys, too, especially the parties, so every Saturday, Sansa’s never without anything to do.

By the middle of September, Sansa has a boyfriend, one that she’s sure she’ll marry. He’s a Pike (which she adores), with golden hair and a devilish grin. His name is Joffrey and he’s the first and only thing Sansa talks about when she calls her mother after their first date.

Margaery listens to Sansa’s stories about her new boyfriend with interest, asking for details Sansa would’ve never shared with anyone else.

“What was he like in bed?” Margaery whispers, “Did he go down on you?”

“Marg!” Sansa gasps, “That’s private!”

“Not between girls, it’s not! You have to give me all the details!”

Sansa laughs, her cheeks flaming red. “It was good; I guess. I don’t have much to compare it to, really. And as for the other thing, no, of course not. He said it was unladylike and I agreed.”

Margaery rolls her eyes. “Sounds like an excuse to me. You’re rather missing out.”

Sansa shrugs. “It doesn’t matter much to me.”

“It will once you do it for the first time.”

Sansa laughs and shoves her roommate. “Shut up!”

It’s two weeks before Halloween when Joff’s fraternity throws a huge blowout. Sansa takes her time choosing her outfit; light skinny jeans and a black cropped tank-top, with clunky heeled boots that make her nearly six feet tall. Her red hair hangs parted in the middle and stick straight thanks to Margaery. She lets her roommate do her makeup, with a little more mascara than she usually wears and a dark lip to match. She looks good, though, and she hopes Joffrey will have something to say; t’s so rare that he compliments her appearance.

The two girls head for the house shortly before midnight, holding arms as they walk through campus to the mansion that houses the Pike boys. “Do you think Joffrey has friends I can hook up with?”

Sansa scoffs. “I’m sure he does.”

Margaery laughs. “Let’s hope so!”

The party is in full swing when they arrive; the music blaring so loud Sansa and Margaery can hear it from down the street. “This looks fun,” Margaery says, eagerly stepping through the cracked front door.

“Yeah,” Sansa murmurs, feeling a little intimidated.

Sansa manages to find Joffrey fairly easily, tucked between a group of his frat brothers with a beer in his hand. He manages a half-smile when he sees Sansa, whispering something to the guy next to him before he makes his way to his girlfriend.

“You’re looking…very tall,” he mumbles, taking a sip of his drink. “You’d fit right in with us,” he laughs, but Sansa knows it’s a dig.

“Well, if I’m to fit in, can I at least have a drink?”

Joffrey sighs but nods, heading to the kitchen. Sansa feels awkward standing alone; she spots Margaery in the corner surrounded by a group of boys and she knows that’s a battle that’s lost. She frowns a little, glancing around for anyone she might know.

Joff returns with an unopened beer before she can freak herself out anymore. “Didn’t want you to think I poisoned it.”

“So chivalry’s not dead after all.” Sansa manages a smile, twisting off the cap and taking a long sip. She hates the taste of beer, but forces it down anyway, dreading her boyfriend’s reaction if she doesn’t.

“I guess not?” He replies, tossing his bottle into a pile of others discarded in the corner. “Come on, let’s dance or something.”

Sansa nods, following Joffrey to where the house has the DJ set up. It feels awkward and out-of-place dancing like they are in front of everyone. Joff’s hands are either too high or too low, and when he starts to mouth at her neck, she pushes him back. “Not here.”

“What?” He asks, eyes glaring like Sansa’s just committed the greatest sin.

“Just not here. There are so many people around.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he replies, raising his voice. “It’s what you do, Sansa. Don’t be such a tease.”

Sansa’s grateful the music is turned up so loud; she’s embarrassed enough at being scolded; she can’t imagine what it’d feel like if the people around them could hear him yelling at her.

“I only said not here. Do you want to go up to your room?”

Joffrey scoffs, rolling his eyes. “And miss this party? What do you think?”

“Okay, sorry,” she mumbles, “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s whatever. I need to get another drink and piss, anyway. I’ll find you in a little while.”

Sansa frowns but lets him walk away, finishing off the last bit of her beer. She wanders around, looking for any sign of her roommate or boyfriend, both lost to her. She finds another drink before leaning against an empty space at the kitchen countertop. She scrolls through her phone for a little bit, creeping through Instagram and Facebook before she starts to get a little annoyed Joffrey hasn’t come back and Margaery’s all but disappeared.

She quickly types a text to her roommate, frowning. Where are you? Joff’s being a dick. I’m ready to go home.

When Margaery doesn’t reply, she calls her instead, but it rings and rings before her voicemail picks up. Sansa sighs, trying Joffrey instead, but it’s the same thing. She only knows one more place to look.

The walk to Joffrey’s room feels ominous for some reason; like Sansa knows there’s something not quite right. She rolls her eyes as his frat brothers catcall her, keeping her gaze straight ahead as she walks up the massive staircase and then down the hall to his room.

Sansa can hear the sin before she opens the unlocked door; the light moans from a girl and the husky grunts from a boy she absolutely knows is Joffrey. Her fingers hesitate on the doorknob; perhaps if she doesn’t look then it’s not true; that the sounds are from someone else. She can’t possibly be being cheated on.

Her mouth falls open as she cracks the door, but no words or sounds can be garbled up from her throat. She knows it’s Margaery wrapped up in Joff’s sheets with his hands on her ass as she rides him. Her head falls back, eyes closed as she moves a little faster. Joffrey glances over Marg’s shoulder, smirking as he sees Sansa standing in the doorway. He makes no attempt to stop anything; in fact, he kisses Margaery’s shoulder, giving her a hard slap to encourage her to move faster.

Sansa leaves as quickly as she came, vision blurred as she scurries back down the stairs, knocking people out of her way to get outside. The house is too hot and overwhelming; she needs the cool October air to fill her lungs. She breaks down as her feet step into the grass; tears streaming wildly down her face as she plays the horrible image in her mind over and over.

She feels totally alone. She could go back to her dorm, but she doesn’t want to deal with her roommate (if she even returns at the end of the night.) And besides, it’s too late for her to walk home alone safely so she dials the only person that can help her. It’s been so long since she’s had to call him, Sansa begs whatever deity she can think of that his number is still the same. She shifts her weight from one leg to another as she stands in the yard, the phone ringing endlessly to the point she thinks he might not pick up.

But then the line clicks and there’s a brief pause before she hears anything. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sansa.” Her voice cracks and a fresh set of tears overtake her. “Sorry,” she mumbles, clearing her throat.

“Sansa, what’s wrong?”

She suddenly feels guilty for calling; it’s obvious that he had been asleep and she’s disturbing someone she hardly knows anymore. “Um,” she stammers, “I’m at the Pike house on campus. Can you come pick me up, please? I don’t have anyone else to call.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jon says, and Sansa can hear rustling in the background. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she replies, “I just need someone to come get me.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No, Jon!” She snaps, “I’m not hurt, I’m not in trouble and I’m not drunk, before you ask.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, “Just checking. I’ll be there in fifteen, alright? Will you be safe until then?”

“I’m safe,” Sansa sniffles, “I’m outside.”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just be waiting.”

They both mumble bye and Sansa hangs up first.

xxx

“I’m sorry,” Sansa says, wiping her smeared mascara on her sleeve as she climbs into Jon’s car. “I know it’s late but I didn’t have anyone else to call.”

“It’s fine,” Jon replies, wrapping his hands back around the steering wheel, looking a little nervous and a lot out of place. “You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind.”

Sansa sniffles, closing her eyes, trying to stop the tears. “I just don’t believe it. Why would they do that to me?”

“I don’t know,” Jon says, watching the house through the car window. “I don’t even know what they did but it’s not right. Do you need me to beat whoever it is up?”

“No,” Sansa half-smiles, “Let’s just go.”

“Where’s your dorm?”

“Not there,” she says quickly, “I can’t go there right now.”

“Alright,” Jon sighs, pausing before he puts the car in drive. He feels awkward as he merges on to the highway, heading toward his apartment with his best friend’s little sister in his passenger seat. He hasn’t seen her in a year, probably, not since he moved away and Robb had gone off to school. He feels bad for her, and he hates every little sniffle that leaves her and he awkwardly shuffles around to find some spare napkins he keeps in the console of his car. “Sorry, I don’t have any real tissues.” He mumbles, putting them into Sansa’s lap.

“It’s fine,” Sansa whispers.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

“Some fries,” she replies, after a moment of silence. She foregoes her manners and blows her nose before she tries to clean the mascara off her face. “McDonald’s, please.”

Jon pays for her snack with a smile, grateful for the little grin she gives him when he hands her the bag. She’s stopped crying but he can still hear the sadness in her voice when she speaks. “I had been there for a while and suddenly I couldn’t find either of them but there were so many people I didn’t think it was a big deal, you know?”

Sansa’s not sure why she’s venting all this to Jon, who probably couldn’t care less, but she can’t stop it. “And then I called her and she didn’t answer, and neither did he, so I just like, walked into his room and there they were, Jon. Like together on his bed. He noticed I came in but Marg didn’t. I don’t even know. I’m so mad.”

“I know,” Jon mumbles, “Me too.”

“It’s just so unfair,” she wobbles, “I was a really good girlfriend. And friend, too!” Sansa shoves a handful of fries in her mouth. “And they just go off like that; oh my god.”

Jon flinches as Sansa starts to cry again, though the sounds are muffled by her mouth full of French fries. He’s grateful when they reach his apartment complex and he can get her inside.

xxx

Sansa’s never seen such a small apartment before. It’s nice, though, and cozy, she decides, if a little bare. But she feels a little awkward standing in the middle of Jon’s living room with her purse in one hand and a McDonald’s bag in the other. She looks anywhere but Jon for some reason, fidgeting on her feet and half-wishing she had gone back to her dorm.

“You can have my bed,” Jon says, “I just changed the sheets before you called.”

“Oh no,” Sansa replies, “I don’t want to put you out. I’ll take the couch.”

“It’s fine, honestly,” he grumbles hastily, “I don’t mind.” He doesn’t mean to snap but he feels out of place in his own home and honestly just wants to sleep and have Sansa sleep, too.

 

“Alright, then, where is it?”

“Down the hall, first door on your left.”

Sansa figures she probably could’ve found it on her own but nods, leaving Jon sitting on the couch. When she reaches the bedroom, she sighs, setting her stuff down on the edge of the bed. She looks around the room, at its off-white walls and all the little things Jon has stored around. There’s a tiny desk in the corner, covered in folded clothes, and a dresser against the wall opposite the bed. Besides that and a nightstand, there’s really not much to it.

Sansa jumps as she hears Jon knock at the door. “Did I scare you? Didn’t mean to. I brought you some water in case you need it. Sorry the room is messy; I haven’t been home much to clean it.”

“It’s fine,” Sansa smiles, taking the bottled water, “It’s nice.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

Sansa pauses for a minute, looking down at her jeans and crop top. “Do you have a pair of sweatpants I can borrow?”

Jon nods, heading to his closet to find a pair of pants for her. “Will these be okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sansa says with a smile, taking them from Jon. Their fingers brush and Sansa almost wants to find an excuse to touch him again, but Jon’s already backed away from her like she’s made of fire.

“Anyway, I’ll be in the living room. ‘Night, Sansa. Let me know if you need anything.”

xxx

It’s raining when Sansa wakes up, the room dark and dreary just like outside. Her body feels enormously tired; like she’s run two marathons in the last two days even though she’s barely done anything at all. Her eyes hurt from crying all night and she’s sure they’re swollen but she figures it doesn’t really matter anyway.

She wonders how long she can get away with staying with Jon, even if it’s just for another night. She doesn’t think she can go back to her dorm, not right now, anyway, when her wounds are still fresh and she’s had nightmares all night. Sansa’s never really hated anyone, but she hates Margaery and Joffrey more than anything at the moment.

Sansa turns on her back, closing her eyes, but she doesn’t anticipate sleep. She only thinks about how nice Jon’s been to her; picking her up at two AM, buying her food, giving her his bed and sharing his clothes. Joff would’ve never done any of those things, she thinks for a brief moment, before she stops herself.

This is my brother’s best friend.

Sansa finally picks herself out of bed at half-ten, tiptoeing down the hall just to make sure Jon’s awake. He is, still lying down on the couch with the blanket pulled up to his chest. She notices his hair’s been pulled back and her stomach gives some type of little flip that makes her nervous.

“Hey,” Jon says, smiling up at Sansa when she comes into view. “Sleep okay?”

“Want the honest or fake answer?”

Jon frowns. “Well, they do say honesty is the best policy…”

Sansa plops down into a chair opposite the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “I really didn’t sleep well. I just kept dreaming about it and reliving it. And I might have to buy you new pillowcases; sorry.”

Jon shakes his head. “Don’t worry about those.”

Sansa knows she doesn’t have any tears left to shed; she’s cried herself out but the emptiness and loss are still burning in her chest. “I, like, keep worrying about everything. Like I have to go back to that dorm with her and what if I see Joff around campus?” She works herself into a panic, hands shaking as she continues. “And I feel stupid for panicking 'cause I didn’t do anything wrong but I feel like I did. Was I not good enough? Was Margaery just prettier than I am?”

Jon throws the blanket off him, picking up his shirt off the floor and hastily putting it on. Sansa can’t help but see his toned stomach and broad shoulders and she starts to panic again.

“Hey,” Jon murmurs softly, kneeling in front of Sansa. “What can I do? Do you want me to call Robb or your mom?”

“No! No. I’ll get a lecture from both of them about various things I haven’t done right. I’ll be fine, honest.”

Jon frowns, fumbling with his hands like he doesn’t know if it’s alright to touch her.

“And I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay another night?

"Of course,” he replies without hesitation. “Anything you need.”

Jon offers to make her breakfast but it comes with the stipulation he’s not a very good cook, so she takes the cereal and milk he has and scarfs it down. When she’s finished, she lays her head down on his small kitchen table. The coolness of the wood feels nice against her skin and she takes a deep breath.

“Alright, Sansa?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” She sits up, taking another breath before placing her dishes into the tiny sink.

“You look tired,” Jon says awkwardly, instantly biting his cheek. “I mean, you don’t look bad. Just tired.”

Sansa would be offended if Jon didn’t look so damn remorseful at his wording, but she laughs instead. “I am tired,” she says, “If it’s not too much I think I’d like to nap. But out here. You can have your bed back; I’m sure you’re tired as well.”

Jon gives a half smile. “It’s fine, don’t worry about me.”

“I’m serious,” Sansa replies. “Now up so I can nap on this couch.”

Jon laughs because there’s the Sansa he always knew. “Alright, alright. You’re the boss.”

xxx

“You’re not going home for Thanksgiving?” Sansa asks, looking up from her homework and chewing on the cap of her pen.

“I have stuff that needs to get done around here,” Jon says, not taking his eyes off his laptop. “Besides, I couldn’t afford it even if I had the chance to go back.”

Sansa frowns. “Everyone should go home for the holidays. Even you, Jon Snow.”

Jon smiles. “I’ll be fine, Sans, really. I know you’re excited to see everyone so don’t waste that worrying about me.”

Sansa’s heart jumps when he calls her Sans, the only person to ever do it. And she loves it, if she’s being honest. It’s something about the way his mouth moves when he says it and how his voice sounds when it flows from his lips. It also has something to do with the fact she’s spent every weekend the past month and a half at his place, still sleeping in his bed alone, though. But she feels better at his; it’s a time to wind down and get her mind off Margaery’s betrayal and her homework. Jon makes her laugh and forget what’s outside the walls of his apartment.

They order takeout and sometimes they cook, but either way, it never matters to Sansa, as long as they’re together. Sometimes he helps her with history homework and she tidies up his clutter while he grades papers from the community college where he teaches a couple of classes. It startles her at how domestic it’s become, but neither one of them care to bring it up. She knows they’re toeing a dangerous line between friends and just barely more than, but Sansa can’t help herself. And she kind of gets the impression Jon feels the same way, at least she hopes.

“You’ll come home for Christmas then, yeah? Please? For me?”

Jon glances up, looking over the edge of his glasses. “I’ll see what I can do.” But he’s smiling and he’d never tell Sansa no when she’s looking at him like that.

“What are we doing tonight?” She asks, scribbling down statistics problems before she shuts the heavy book.

“I figured we’d watch a show or something until we got tired; it’s already pretty late. You up for that?”

“Always,” Sansa grins, putting her books away before she heads to the couch. Jon watches her walk away, fairly unobviously, he hopes. But she’s in those sweatpants he gave her that first night and one of his old soccer t-shirts from his intramural days. For half a moment, Jon thinks this must be what love is, but then he catches himself and shakes his head.

This is my best friend’s little sister.

“What are we watching?” Sansa settles herself on the couch, legs wrapped up in a blanket as she curls up in the corner. “Something geeky, I’m sure,” she teases.

“Well,” he says, getting up, “Sort of. But not in the way you’re thinking.”

Sansa raises an eyebrow but nods anyway, watching him pull up The Pacific.

“Oooh,” Sansa singsongs, “A war film.”

“Show, technically.”

She shrugs but curls into the corner of the couch. Sansa’s surprised by how much she enjoys it, probably more than Jon (even though he says he’s seen it at least a dozen times.)

Half-way through the third episode, Sansa’s eyes start to feel heavy and she knows she won’t make it much longer. But she does know exactly what she’s doing when she puts her head in his lap.

“Sansa?”

“Shh,” she mumbles, “I’m tired.”

“Then you should go to bed.”

“I’m fine right here, thank you,” she slurs, eyes drooping closed. “Jon, promise me one thing, though.”

“Okay, what?”

“That you won’t ever go to war. Or leave me in general.”

Jon’s not sure he’s heard her correctly - or if she even knows what she’s saying. He can tell by her voice that she’s more than half gone but he agrees anyway.

He mutes the tv so she’ll sleep soundly, a smile on his lips as he watches her fall asleep, her long hair splayed across his lap. The urge to stroke the red strands is too much; so he does, twirling the ends of her hair around his fingers. Sansa shifts and Jon pauses; suddenly feeling very much like he shouldn’t be touching her at all.

The guilt from keeping this, their friendship, whatever it is, a secret from Robb overwhelms him; perhaps he should’ve told his best friend Sansa’s been spending every weekend at his house for the past six weeks. But what would her family think? What would her brother think? Jon panics just thinking about it.

But the past month and a half have been some of the best; Jon’s come to rely on Friday nights and hates Sansa’s departures Sunday afternoons. If she’s not at his house; she sends texts in the middle of the week to complain about Margaery or her course load and he sends her a good morning text more often than he’d care to admit. Jon tells himself it’s only because it’s nice to have someone to remind him of home, but deep down that’s not true and he knows it.

Jon’s brought out of his thoughts as Sansa sighs in her sleep. He goes back to playing with her hair; it’s comforting, sitting like they are, on a rare night in November with the heat on and Jon doesn’t want to move, so he doesn’t, he stays right where he is until sleep overtakes him too.

He hasn’t any idea what time it is when he wakes, but the sun hasn’t risen and the tv is still playing the show. “Sansa,” Jon whispers, gently nudging her shoulder, “It’s time for bed.”

Sansa grumbles, snuggling deeper into Jon’s legs. “Don’t wanna move.”

“You have to; you’ll be sore in the morning.”

“Carry me,” Sansa mumbles, “Can’t walk.”

Jon laughs, hooking an arm beneath her knees and one under her neck. “You’re such a princess.”

When he reaches the bedroom and moves to lay Sansa on the mattress, she clings to his shirt. “Stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re you.” Jon bites his tongue as he sets her down and sees the look of disappointment flit across her face. “No, not like that. I mean, I want to, of course I do, but what would Robb say?”

“I didn’t realize Robb was here to say anything.” Sansa opens her eyes and smiles, still fingering the hem of Jon’s t-shirt.

“Sansa…”

She sits up, tugging Jon down to her level. “You just said you wanted to. And I want you to.” Sansa’s not sure where her boldness comes from but she wraps an arm around his neck, touching her forehead to his. “So please, for the love of god, get in bed.”

Jon sighs as Sansa lays back down and he crawls over her, falling to his left side, facing away from her.

“You can get under the covers; I’m not going to bite you.”

Jon flops onto his back, shoving himself underneath the plaid comforter. He has a full sized bed, so Sansa’s not that far from him and he can feel her warmth radiate through the sheets.

“Are you nervous, Jon?”

“No,” he lies, turning once again, this time to face her. “You don’t make me nervous.”

He can see the outline of her face in the dark; her jaw, the edges of her lips, the light shade of red of her hair. Jon wonders what she can see of him or if she can hear his heart beating in his chest.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Sansa smiles, resting her hand across the top of his. “But it’s fine.”

(Jon can’t believe how fast he falls asleep.)

When he wakes in the morning; she’s got one leg curled around his and her arm is flung across his chest. He wonders if she’s done it on purpose, but then he feels his own hand on her hip and the other on her knee and he realizes just how close they are.

Jon tries to disentangle himself but Sansa stirs, flattening her palm against his sternum. “Jon, it’s okay.” She looks up at him and smiles, scooting just a little closer. “What’s bothering you?”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“About what? This? Whatever it is? No. why would it?”

“What is it?” He asks, settling back against the pillow and sighing. Sansa pulls herself up to her elbows and shrugs.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

The word yes rests on the tip of Jon’s tongue, but he shakes his head instead. He doesn’t have the voice to say no, especially when he would like it to matter. (He’d like it very much.)

“Then stop worrying so much.”

Jon manages a grin, turning onto his side as Sansa flops face first into her pillow. “Joffrey called me the other day,” she mumbles.

“Did he?”

“Yeah. And found me outside class one day. I told him I didn’t think I had anything to say.”

“Well, I don’t know him but he truly is a little shit.”

Sansa laughs into the pillowcase, nodding as best she can. “I agree.”

They’re silent for a few minutes, but it’s comfortable. They don’t need to speak to feel the energy that ebbs between them. Jon closes his eyes as he traces a line up and down Sansa’s spine with his fingers, his heartbeat picking up every time he feels the ridges of the vertebrae beneath her shirt. He wishes he could feel her bare skin, but this is fine, he’s more than content.

Their positioning could almost construed as nothing more than friends. Sansa’s still on her stomach, facing away from Jon while he lies on the opposite side of the bed, still afraid to move too close. “You played with my hair last night,” Sansa murmurs.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. But I thought I might have been dreaming.”

“No, not dreaming,” he replies.

“Mmm,” Sansa hums, turning over. She scoots closer to Jon, suddenly shy in the daylight. She keeps her eyes closed as she takes his hands in hers and intertwines their legs together. She’s unbearably nervous for some reason; heart pounding in her chest and thoughts racing. But then she feels Jon’s lips against her forehead, kissing as softly as she imagined he would, and she feels her entire body relax.

“Are you nervous, Sansa?”

She debates whether to lie or tell the truth, but she knows Jon will call her bluff; he always does.  
“Yes.”

“Me too.”

Sansa smiles, still keeping her eyes closed. She’s even too afraid to look at him.

“Sansa…”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The word 'please’ leaves her mouth before she can even think about it. Jon hesitates only a moment before his hands cup her jaw and he loses the little bit of self-control he had built up. The weeks of tension are let loose as he kisses her, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. Sansa’s soft and warm against him, her fingers tangling into the soft cotton of his-tshirt as she moves closer.

Jon kisses her softly; lips molded against hers as they move in sync. Sansa whines when he pulls back to breathe, chasing him onto his back. Jon wonders how long he managed to go this long without doing this; without knowing how her lips felt and what little sounds she makes when his fingers curl into the hair at the base of her skull or when he nips her bottom lip.

And Sansa wonders just how long she managed to withstand not kissing him, either, when there were so many opportunities and nights dreamt of his full mouth and how it’d feel against her cheeks, her lips, her jaw and neck.

Sansa hums as Jon ghosts his lips across her skin, skimming the surface until he reaches the delicate place beneath her ear. His teeth graze, but he doesn’t dare leave a mark; just applies enough pressure to make goosebumps fly across her skin. She whispers his name and clutches at his shoulder as he kisses her lips again, harder this time, with a little more urgency, like he can’t quite get enough of her.

(Which he can’t.)

Sansa pulls back when she can’t breathe, hiding her face in the crook of Jon’s neck, still too shy for some reason to look him in the eye. She smiles when she feels his fingers on her lower back, this time tracing across her bare skin. Jon presses his lips to the top of her head as they both try to catch their breath.

“Joff asked if there was someone else.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him 'maybe.’”

Jon laughs.

xxx

Jon hates how desperate he’s become; how much he actually misses Sansa’s presence in his apartment. It’s really no different than her being on campus during the week, but there’s something about her being totally inaccessible that gets under his skin. She texts him, saying everything but “I miss you,” but hinting around it and Jon refuses to say it first.

She calls him on Thursday, past midnight when they should both be sleeping. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” Jon wonders if the smile in his voice carries through the phone.

“I’m fine. People always told me coming back after being away sucked but I didn’t believe them. Now I do.”

Jon chuckles.

“No, I’m serious, Jon. I’ve been home for like three days and I’ve already had to fold everyone’s laundry and had to help dad rake the yard. I have four other siblings and it’s like they’re not doing anything at all.”

“Well, it’s almost time for you to come back. When’s your flight again?”

“Sunday at 9.”

“Okay,” Jon says, biting his tongue not to ask her to come to his as soon as her flight lands.

“I’ve a surprise for you when I get back.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I can’t tell you. It’d ruin it.” Sansa laughs on the other end of the line and Jon closes his eyes, trying to picture the last time she laughed with him; how she looked with her eyes half-closed and mouth wide, cheeks pink from joy.

“Well, can I have a hint?”

“No!”

“Alright, then,” Jon says, his smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hey, Sans,” he mumbles, “I can’t wait for you to be back.”

“Yeah,” she breathes, “I miss you.”

“Do you?” Jon teases.

“You know I do.”

“I miss you too.”

Sansa grins like an idiot in her childhood bedroom, counting down the hours until her flight. “Stay on the phone until I fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” he says, “Of course.”

xxx

Sansa shows up at Jon’s door at four in the afternoon on Friday, two days before she was meant to be back, her duffle bag thrown over her shoulder and still in the clothes she flew in.

Overwhelmed by surprise, he leans over to kiss her quickly as he takes the bag off her shoulder. “Am I supposed to have any idea what you’re doing here?”

“Nope,” she replies, giving him a small shove on the chest so they can walk into his apartment. “But surprise! I’m the surprise!”

Jon sets her duffle bag by the door, almost instantly running to her and sweeping Sansa into his arms. He spins her around like a fool in love, which he very well may be.

Sansa buries her head in Jon’s neck, snuggling against his skin and his warmth. “I missed you,” she whispers, momentarily brave while her face is hidden. He squeezes her just a little tighter, exhaling and he wonders if this is what love feels like. He decides it is; Sansa Stark was that easy to fall in love with.

It doesn’t feel unnatural when Sansa’s lips touch his neck, a tiny kiss pressed to his pulse point that makes his heart race. And it doesn’t feel strange when her second kiss is far more deliberate, her lips dragging over his skin until she reaches his ear. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” Jon breathes, his hands flexing experimentally on the backs of her thighs as he lifts her up just a little. “‘Course I did.”

Sansa pulls her face from his neck, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “Then will you take me to bed?”

(And Jon’s never been one to tell her no before.)

Sansa’s body is warm and soft like silk beneath Jon’s fingertips. Her hips are hard bone beneath his hands, collarbones just the same. He traces every inch of her with his his hands, his breath growing heavy as he runs his fingers down her sternum. He started with her long neck, the way it curved made the desire to touch it almost unbearable. He could’ve kissed her, but her lips will always be there - and right now, her skin is a map to be explored and charted - to be touched and felt by him.

He likes the way she gasps when he circles her nipples, the way her ribs make themselves known as she arches her back off the bed to get closer. She’s beautiful like this, all undone with her hair on his pillows and across crisp white sheets. His hands go down her stomach, fingers cupping her heat before Jon moves to her legs - those precious thighs that leave his lips dry. They’re every bit as soft as the rest of her, and the wetness glistening at the apex of her cunt makes him smile. He thinks about touching it like has everything else, but decides to take his time.

Jon leans back over her, body covering hers like a blanket. Sansa’s neck is warm where he kisses it, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses across her skin. He thinks he hears her whisper his name but he can’t be sure. Maybe this is all just a dream and he’ll wake up at any second. Instead of trying to wake himself, he kisses back down her body, his lips leaving tiny purple marks along her ribs, her hips - wherever Jon can find the focus to take his time.

He pauses just before the dip in her stomach, running his palms up Sansa’s legs, baring her to him. She’s gorgeous like this is all he can think as she smiles up at him, digging her toes into his side. “Are you just going to stare?”

When Jon finally dips his tongue into her cunt, it’s heaven. He knew she’d taste like she felt, like she looked, but he was overwhelmed. His fingers danced around Sansa’s hips, pinning her to the bed as she wriggled. He trailed his tongue over her clit, smirking to himself as she moaned a little, her hands darting to intertwine in Jon’s hair. Her back arches and her thighs close around his head, locking him into a place he’d love to stay forever.

Jon moves his hands to her thighs, fingertips digging into her soft and supple skin as his mouth envelops her cunt. He licks softly at first, exploring her with his tongue. Sansa tastes as sweet as he thought she would, with a bite of bitterness that makes it something all her own. Jon cannot get enough of her, his face buried between her legs. He flicks his tongue around her swollen clit, running it up and down, side to side, trying to taste her all at once.

Even though he doesn’t look, Jon knows how ethereal Sansa must look right now - he can hear her moans in his ears and feel her hips press themselves closer to his mouth as she rocks off the bed. Her fingers are still tangled in his dark curls, trapping his tongue to stay focused on the one spot that makes her body twitch.

Sliding his hands under her arse, Jon pulls the red headed girl closer to him, slipping his tongue inside her cunt. He encourages her rhythm, speeding her up before slowing her down, grinning as she whispers his name under her breath. He fucks her with his mouth, his thumb circling her clit. Sansa bucks her hips when he presses lightly, her fingers scraping across his scalp.

“Jon-” Sansa mumbles, her thighs clamping shut on either side of his head, “I’m gonna…” she manages.

She doesn’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand what she’s trying to tell him. He lifts his face only for a moment, thumb still running over her swollen bud, “Come,” Jon says with a bit more dominance in his voice than he meant to have.

Like she’s given permission, Sansa comes with a start, back bowing off the bed and her hips rutting to be closer to Jon’s mouth. She would never admit it out loud, but it was his tone that sent her over the edge - that little trace of darkness in him did her in. She rides out her orgasm with her hands fisted in Jon’s hair, her thighs locked around his face as she whimpered his name and called out words she would’ve blushed for saying just a few months ago. But it’s different now, here with Jon in his bed, coming on his tastebuds and crying out loud enough that maybe the neighbors will hear.

When she finally stops shaking, Jon sits up, wiping his hand across the back of his mouth and giving her a grin. Sansa almost wants to look away at the obscenity of it all, but instead she reaches out, pulling Jon down so she can kiss him hard. She tastes herself on his lips but she doesn’t care, Sansa wants every bit of Jon that she can get.

Always working against her shyness, Sansa traces her tongue over his bottom lip as her legs instinctively wrap around his waist. She can feel him hard, his cock pressed against her lower stomach. She likes the way it feels and she bites back moan when she grinds her hips upward.

“Jon,” she mumbles, trying to speak, but the urge to kiss him is too much. He breaks the kiss first, moving his lips down her neck and across her collarbones. “I want you,” Sansa says quietly, her eyes closed.

Jon’s a little surprised so he sits back up, running his thumb along the apple of Sansa’s cheek. “Are you sure? There’s no going back.”

Sansa’s eyes flutter open, staring down the boy in front of her. “Yes, I’m sure, Jon.”

(And that’s all he needs to hear.)

He rolls over her, taking his cock in his hand to tease her, running it over her folds and her clit. Jon loves the way Sansa reacts, her hands fisting the sheets and her toes curling against his back. When he finally pushes inside her, they sigh in unison. The feeling is incredible - something otherworldly. She’s tight and wet - for him - and Jon would be a liar if he said he didn’t love that. He keeps the pace shallow at first, unable to take himself away from her for too long.

Their hips rock together, finding a pace that causes them both to whisper each other’s name. Every time Jon rocks deeper inside her, Sansa meets him, their bodies moving in unison together. He holds her hips to keep himself steady, trying to keep things slow. Jon’s sure there will be other times, but like before, he wants to enjoy this moment, to plot and chart how Sansa feels in his hands, to find out what she likes and what makes her cry out for him the loudest.

Jon holds the back of Sansa’s neck as he fucks her, his head buried in the side of her neck. Gods, she feels even better than he could imagine and he never wants to leave. He loves the sounds she makes, too, her voice hoarse as she whimpers his name and encourages him to go faster - that she’s waited far too long for this.

His hips move faster by themselves, desperately rocking against Sansa for release. He’s being selfish now - but he can’t help it. She feels so good, and with the way she’s calling out his name and how her hands are scraping across his shoulder blades, it doesn’t matter. He won’t last much longer, even if he wills it.

Jon feels Sansa clenching around him, her cunt wrapping around his cock like a glove. He snakes his hand between them, fingers ghosting over her clit until she’s coming for a second time, less intense than the first, but she gives him the same little moans and whimpers that make Jon’s heart race.

He pulls out of her with a groan and a little regret, his orgasm spilling on to her thigh and his sheets. Jon can feel the blush on his cheeks as he comes, slightly embarrassed at how quickly it was over. He almost refuses to look at Sansa, but he can’t help it - he has to know what she looks like right now. She’s an angel, truly, or something divine.

Her cheeks are pink, her chest, too and her lips are swollen from messy kisses. Her usually smooth red hair is a giant knot, but Jon’s never seen anything he admires more.

“Again,” she says, glancing down at the mess on her leg, biting back a grin. “And do you think you can handle the next three days with me?”

Jon gives a silent laugh, leaning down to kiss her lips once more. “We’re going to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at jxnsnows.


End file.
